


Hush

by itsmadeofgold



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Community: kradam_kiss, Kradam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2010-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmadeofgold/pseuds/itsmadeofgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief but porny sequel to In Here; AKA shotgunning fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

_What's going on?_

A small voice in the back of my head keeps trying to ask, but is cut off every time. Whenever I try to focus on the question some sensory jolt hits me, an electric sizzle from points south, and I lose track of my thoughts.

But then details start to emerge. First: lips. I'm kissing. I'm kissing _Adam._ And his lips are really wonderful and hot and I'm pretty sure I could happily do this forever. And then I realize my hands are fisted in his shirt, pulling him in tightly. He has one hand on the back of my head and the other on my ass, and my leg is hitched up, slung around his waist. He's grinding into me, and I am whining into his mouth.

So, sex is happening. Sex with Adam in the bathroom is what's going on.

Less weird than the fact that it's happening is the fact that I am so eager. The fact that I already know I will be good at this. As Adam groans and arches into me, my hands clutch at him and I push back, seeing explosions behind my eyelids at the friction.

Then he pulls away and I open my eyes to look up at him. His face is all red, rubbed raw by my stubble. His lips are swollen. His eyes are half-lidded and a little bit pink from the weed, but still sharp blue. He looks down at me through the lingering haze in the room, and his face is all questions. Like he's having a poorly-timed moment of clarity.

I don't want to talk. I don't care what this means. I can't imagine a world outside this tiny, smokey space; I can only imagine more of this. I can only pull him in closer, kiss him again. Answer with my body. Because this is not just about tonight and he knows it. And talking about it now will only ruin the moment.

I reach down and palm him through his jeans. He bucks into me and sucks in his breath, and it's like he's sucking air out of me. He grinds against my hand and I squeeze, then release and pull his zipper down, sliding my hand inside. He slips, silky and warm, against my hand as my fingers move to fist around his cock, pulling him out. He begins to growl, low in the back of his throat. Quiet.

He is watching me, cheeks pink, lips red, as he slides his hand downward to unfasten my jeans. I am focused on him - on the sparkling intensity of his eyes as he watches me, on the subtle noises he is making, on the steady stroke of my hand - and am surprised when I feel his hand on me. All the air comes wooshing out of me and I jerk against him, squeezing him harder, because yeah - _yes, God._

And we try to go slow and steady at first but in just a few seconds we are frantic, and I am trying to be quiet - I know I _have_ to be quiet - but I can't stop the gasps and moans that keep bubbling out of my throat. Adam leans in toward me, putting his lips directly against my ear, panting harshly, his breath warm and wet against my skin.

"Shhhhh," he says.

That one little sound, directly into my ear, lights me up and I buckle, my head falling forward into his shoulder. I press my mouth against him, muffling a moan, breathing it into the cotton of his shirt. And then he is moving his hand faster and I am trying to keep up with him; I can't contain the noises that want to come out of me and I bite down on his shoulder, maybe harder than I mean to, and he bucks hard against me and I feel him coming. He is pulsing in my hand and spattering on my shirt and my arm and I can hear him growling low and feel it vibrating through his body, too.

His hand never stops moving, even as he jerks against me, and I am seeing stars when I start to come. I hear him whispering things to me but I can't make them out; they just seem to hang in the air like the smoke.


End file.
